


Tik Tok

by msmerlin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ALL the tags, Alternate Universe - Muggle, COVID19, F/M, HAPPY FRICKIN' BIRTHDAY M, Hermione and Neville Make Silly Videos, Pandemic - Freeform, Pining, Social Media, These two are adorable, TikTok, Unemployed, Yeeting it into the universe on muggle!AU at a time, first time writing this pairing, i like tags, muggle!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26394049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmerlin/pseuds/msmerlin
Summary: Tik Tok was stupid.Childish, rudimentary, and a complete waste of Hermione’s time.Of course, she’d thought this prior to losing her job (thanks global pandemic!) and ending up quite literally trapped in her loft with nothing to do. Now, she found herself spending hours watching what felt like thousands of videos at any available moment.or the one in which Hermione's social media addiction and her Neville addiction combine.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Neville Longbottom
Comments: 30
Kudos: 86
Collections: Fuck Your Gender Roles





	1. wipe it down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [granger_danger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/granger_danger/gifts).



> Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended.

Tik Tok was stupid.

Childish, rudimentary, and a complete waste of Hermione’s time.

Of course, she’d thought this prior to losing her job ( _ thanks global pandemic! _ ) and ending up quite literally trapped in her loft with nothing to do. Now, she found herself spending hours watching what felt like thousands of videos at any available moment.

Lounging around the loft in sweats binge eating crisps? Tik Tok.

Waiting in line at Tesco with a package of toilet paper she almost punched a middle aged woman over? Tik Tok.

Three am insomnia eating pickles and cheddar cheese in the kitchen? Tik Tok.

It was a sickness, really, a modern day affliction. 

Hermione knew this, but was lost to its mind-numbing draw. Frankly, with literally nothing else on her plate and absolutely nowhere to go, it was better than sitting on her arse watching reality TV all day. At least, that was the lie she told herself.

Her roommates gave her a hard time for her latest obsession.

Harry, best friend extraordinaire, would throw popcorn at her from across the room during her evening binges.

Ginny, self appointed female best friend and Harry’s significant other, would practically smack her mobile from her hand at every possible opportunity.

Neville was somehow the only one who did not seem to be endlessly annoyed by her sudden interest in the social media platform. Instead of judging or mocking her, he joined her on the couch to watch before work, shoulder to shoulder, as they ate cereal in silence. Only the occasional chuckle lifted over the crunch of their respective bowls of Coco Pops.

While she had never been close with Neville—he was always more of Harry’s friend than her own—she found his unexpected comradery nice in the midst of the pandemic. She had nothing better to do with her time. She enjoyed loafing around for the first time in her life while she waited for the bookstore to reopen or for a new job prospect to pop up. And Neville didn’t seem to mind. 

In fact, he’d often text her Tik Toks he thought she would like throughout his shift at the nursery.

Which is why, when the time finally came for her to take the plunge and try her hand at making her own videos, she knew exactly who to turn to.

Harry would judge.

Ginny would mock.

But Neville? He’d participate _ —happily. _

“Any glare?” She looked over her shoulder, her frizzy hair piled in a high top knot. She wore an old King’s School shirt that had seen better days, yoga pants, and not a lick of make-up. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have allowed herself to be photographed let alone recorded in this state.

But that was entirely the point, right?

Her first challenge was going to be basic, easy, and hopefully seamless.

The Wipe Down.

It seemed simple enough, and well… better to start out small than jump feet first into a choreographed dance number.

“I don’t think so.” Neville stood at the washroom’s threshold, holding up her mobile. Dark eyes flickered between assessing her through the screen, and peering over the top of the device. “Can you scoot in a smidge?”

She curled her toes against the vanity, hips digging into the countertop as she leaned closer, rag in hand, bent against the countertop. “Like this?”

“Perfect!”

She turned away from her roommate—and kind of friend—and looked back in the mirror as she adjusted the burgundy headband that kept her wispy baby curls at bay. “Okay… count me down.” This was stupid. Entirely a waste of her bloody time. But for some inexplicable reason, she was excited to try her hand at this new venture.

It had been so long since she’d had something— _ anything _ —to look forward to, and something as daft as making Tik Tok videos was a small ray of sunshine in an otherwise dark world.

“One… Two… Three… Go!”

Inside her head the music played, acting as her guide to her facial expression of surprise at the dirty mirror. Sighing, she lifted her hand to the mirror, and slid the microfiber cloth across the surface.

Up, down, up, down. The repetitive motion timed perfectly to the beat in her mind before she finally pulled back, a look of astonishment cleverly masking her features as she reached for her mass of curls, twisting the ends in disbelief. 

“Perfect!” Neville lowered the camera, a wide smile showing off a row of perfectly straight teeth she couldn’t help but notice. “Did you finally decide on what you’re going to wear?”

Hermione set the rag down and turned around to lean back on the counter. “I narrowed it down to two choices,” Fingers curled around the lip of the counter, her nails tapped an uneven rhythm. “Maybe you can give me your opinion? I’m stuck between something a bit more posh and a nice club kind of outfit.”

Neville leaned forward, setting her iPhone down, before he leaned against the doorframe, thick arms crossing over his chest. 

She’d known Neville back when they were in boarding school, though they were far from close. They ran in the same circles, but never spent time together alone. She hadn’t been opposed, but the situation never arose. He was always a nice boy, but he was… a bit of an ugly duckling back then. Not that she had any room to talk; it had taken her years to figure out how to properly manage her riotous curls. And a few extra years to grow into her teeth. 

But to say Neville had grown into his looks was far from an understatement.

Braces fixed his gapped overbite, a late growth spurt leaned out his squat stature, and finding a love for working in gardens helped tone and solidify his form. He was a far cry from the chubby little boy she’d met at eleven.

If he hadn’t been her roommate for the past two years, Hermione might have even considered him fit.

But that type of thought was strictly off limits.

Not only because she couldn’t afford a higher rent, but also because… well, he was  _ Neville _ .

It would have been like sexualizing a teddy bear.

“I mean… I can take a look, but I hardly think I’m the best judge for this type of stuff.” His smile crinkled the corner of his eyes and his dimples deepened, dark eyes practically dancing at her in the artificial light.

Her stomach twisted, that awkward rush of infatuation tickling up her esophagus in the corporeal form of a giggle that she normally reserved for cute baristas. She had to pull her eyes away before she did something as mad as batting her lashes or, heaven forbid, attempting to flirt with him.

“Ah, you’ll be fine.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she quickly slipped past him, careful to avoid brushing her body against his as she moved out of the tiny washroom and into their hallway.

Behind her, she could hear the steady thumb of his socked footsteps, and she took the temporary reprieve from staring at that adorable toothy grin of his to remind herself that these feelings were just a pandemic driven sort of trick.

Sure, he was handsome.

And tall.

And broad.

And was muscular.

And good with his hands.

And had a near-perfect smile.

And had freckles that reminded her of constellations across his tanned shoulders.And handsome. 

And off-limits—not just because he was Neville Longbottom, but also because he was her roommate. 

She opened her door, leaving it ajar as she moved towards her wardrobe to pull out the two outfits she had in mind. “So, I wasn’t sure if I should go for contemporary…” Reaching inside, she pulled out a pair of black jeans and a strappy crimson blouse. 

It didn’t exactly scream sex appeal, but the cut would highlight her features, and with the right make up, it could be dressed up enough to pass.

Turning around, she held the outfit aloft, laying the top over the jeans. “I have some bangles and I can knick those hoop earrings from Ginn’.” She explained as she let her head cock to the side.

Neville had claimed the foot of her bed, his large body perched on the edge, and he was leaning forward so his elbows were pressed against his knees. His fingers steepled before his lips, and his eyes narrowed on the selection. “Okay…” He nodded, giving an air of thorough contemplation about the first option. “And the other?”

She held up a single finger, her lips curling upwards before she spun around and hooked the outfit on top of her wardrobe mirror. Then she reached inside and pulled out a gown from long ago. Periwinkle ruffles, tule, and a neckline she once thought was daringly sexy.

It was absolutely not in fashion anymore, but this particular dress was one she’d never managed to part with over the years. Her fingers brushed across the delicate fabric before she turned around, holding the velvet hanger against her chest so the dress draped over her figure. 

“Millenium elegance.” It likely wouldn’t zip; she was a far cry from the slim figure she has at sixteen, but her back could be edited out of the video easily enough, and with the soft spot this gown had in her heart, she was leaning towards this.

Neville’s brows rose, though she couldn’t tell if it was in appreciation or surprise. He nodded, tongue darting across his lips. “Okay… this isn’t  _ bad. _ ”

Her ego took a hit, shoulders wilting like a week old flower. It wasn’t that she’d expected him to remember, but perhaps some small part of he had hoped. This gown was one he’d seen before, though it felt like a lifetime ago. 

Years separate them from the one (and only) Snowball they’d all attended at King’s School. That particular night had been one for the books. Although she couldn’t remember much beyond sneaking pulls from the flask of whiskey Harry had managed to sneak in, she could distinctly remember feeling beautiful in the gown.

Gulping down her pride, she let her eyes drop to the periwinkle fabric. “It’s a bit much… huh?”

“No… no, not at all.” The squeak of her bedsprings was followed by his heavy footfall, and when she looked up, Neville was standing before her. “It’s beautiful. You’d look beautiful in it. It’s just…” 

The way his voice trailed off told her all she needed to know. It was a daft choice, clearly driven by some subconscious need to feel desirable in a world where she lived in pyjamas and ate crisps all day. 

“It’s fine.” Hermione pushed away the dejection, forcing a wide smile onto her features. She looked up as Neville awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks for your advice.” 

He looked torn, like unspoken words laid just on the tip of his tongue, ready to be born into their world, but something held him back. Perhaps it was her dismissiveness. Or maybe the way she turned her back to him so she could shove the gown into the back of her closet, where it would sit for another ten plus years.

Either way, she didn’t dwell on it. She couldn’t.

He was Neville: her roommate, Harry’s oldest friend, and entirely, completely, and utterly off-limits.

“I think I can be ready in… twenty? Maybe thirty?”

“Oh… kay?”

“Thanks again, Neville.” She grabbed the hangers hooked over the wardrobe and turned to face him, a smile that she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes plastered on her face. She tucked the outfit under her arm, hangers clanging as she made a sweeping gesture towards her bedroom door. “Now, unless you want to see my wobbly bits.”

He laughed, light and breathy; it wasn’t necessarily forced, but not altogether genuine either—not like earlier. “Yeah… wouldn’t want to see that.” His brows raised with the last of his sentence and he tucked his hands into the front pockets of his denims and made his way out of her room.

When the door shut, and the familiar click of the lock falling into the place echoed in her room, Hermione let her smile fall. She looked over her shoulder, shooting one last fleeting glance at the periwinkle dress, before she shut the wardrobe with her foot.

It wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

Stuffing herself in a too small dress from her past wouldn’t have fixed her ego.

And it certainly wouldn’t have made Neville notice her—not that that was her intention,  _ of course _ . 


	2. Flip the Switch

Hermione was far from an overnight success—hell, she was barely even successful, but she had managed to garner a small number of followers, and found herself more and more eager to create new content each time she saw the number increase.

The hours that had once been spent lounging on the couch morphed into calculated planning sessions. A spiral-bound notebook was filled with content ideas that she would share with her Tik Tok partner in crime: _Neville._

It felt off, to have lived with someone for so long and not consider them a close friend. This social media had managed to bring the pair closer together—well, that _and_ the pandemic. But semantics aside, Hermione found herself eagerly awaiting his return from work like a lovesick puppy.

He'd walk through the door and she'd be on him, peppering him with questions, begging for his opinion on potential videos, and most importantly, requesting his availability to figure out when they could shoot another segment.

Because in addition to now being her close friend, Neville was her full-time videographer, and occasional an unwilling participant in her Tik Toks.

"Seriously, Neville? Come on! It'll be fun." Of course, getting him to participate was always a challenge. He claimed to be camera shy and bashful, but she knew for a fact he trolled the comments of the videos he appeared in—looking at the _numerous_ thirst comments that cropped up.

' _He's so fit!'_

' _Helllllo handsome!'_

' _I'd like to climb him like a tree.'_

She might have teased him about them if they hadn't bothered her so much. It was like she was jealous of those random internet strangers, or even annoyed by their attraction to her friend. It was just… well, he was _her_ friend. And… okay, yes, she _was_ annoyed! She didn't want people fantasizing about him.

Not when he already had a full-time gig residing in her mind.

"No. Absolutely not." Neville shook his head, leaning back into the couch as if he could adhere himself to the shabby brown furniture. "I don't mind helping, but—"

"I won't pick out something dreadful! Joggers and a cami. Nothing overt."

"How many men have you seen in camisoles Hermione?"

"Some?" Honestly, she'd never thought about it; why the hell would she? What people wore wasn't really her business—especially during a global pandemic. If neighbour John wanted to prance around in footie pyjamas with a bum flap, so be it. If Very-Loud-Mike down the hall felt like skirts were in fashion, more power to him. And if Neville fancied himself a camisole, she wouldn't dare stop him.

But based on the deadpan expression, he didn't seem keen on the idea. "Okay, fine. What about a shirt and joggers?"

Neville looked away. The muscles in his jaw tensed as he drummed his fingers on his bicep and appeared to contemplate her proposal. She knew she was asking a lot—he normally only made a very, _very_ brief cameo, but this? This was a full-on video featuring the handsome gardener.

And selfishly, she wanted him to help her ratings… but a part of her also just wanted to spend more time with him.

Each minute spent in his presence, she became more keenly aware of her growing attraction. And not just physically.

Sure, he was handsome in that hunky boy-next-door sort of way.

Yes, he had bulky shoulders and rippling biceps from his time at work.

Yes, he had a dimpled smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts.

And yes… he had a _really_ nice bum.

But none of the surface-level details held a candle to the allure of his personality.

Neville was kind, funny, and clever. He made her think outside the box, and frankly, he was lightyears out of her league, which is why she didn't even humour the idea of more… but it didn't mean she couldn't at least pretend, right?

For those precious few hours spent planning, prepping, and filming the silly Tik Tok videos, she could pretend he was in this for more than just placating his roommate.

The second hand from the clock on the mantle ticked loudly, and each second felt like hours as she anxiously awaited his reply, not daring to so much as breathe until he answered.

Whether it was pity or her pestering that finally swayed him, all she knew was when Neville finally looked back at her, he huffed a loud, _"okay… fine."_ She felt like she was soaring.

Giddy excitement bubbled up her throat in the form of a high-pitched squeal, and she threw her arms around his neck, crashing her body into his and knocking him backwards on the couch. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Neville laughed with wide eyes, evidently shocked by her sudden burst of enthusiasm. He was probably also shocked by her hug. He'd been raised prim and proper—a good blue-blooded British boy, which _clearly_ meant limited physical touch, amongst other beliefs that didn't match the way she'd been brought up.

No, her bohemian parents were all about physical affection, free love, outspoken ideologies, and—bless them—love for medicinal herbs. As a child, she'd hardly noticed how different they were, as a teen she'd loathed it, but now, in adulthood, she bloody loved it.

Trips home meant delicious meals, undying affection, and _really_ good pot.

He gingerly patted her back, more like her gran than a friend, "Alright, no need to—"

"Hug you?"

"Tackle me." Neville pulled back, his freckled cheeks tinted pink as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't mind your hugs. They're… rather nice, but uh… sometimes a tad…"

Hermione cocked her head to the side, perplexed by his reactions that fueled her ever-growing curiosity, and lifted her brow as she peered up at him. There was something about him she couldn't quite put her finger on. One minute she'd assumed she had a read on him, on where they stood, and then the next he said stuff like _he didn't mind her hugs._

Truthfully, none of it made sense, but she wasn't sure she was ready to try and decipher the hidden meaning behind simple actions in their budding friendship.

"A tad…"

"Aggressive?"

A sharp laugh bubbled up her throat, and she lifted her hand to cover her upturned lips. "Only you could find a hug aggressive, Neville." Hermione shook her head as she rose from the couch, turning her back to him so she could bite her lip in silent laughter.

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or insult."

"Neither, I suppose." Hermione lifted her shoulders in a small shrug as she made her way across their sitting room towards the hallway, only pausing when she reached the archway to peer at him over her shoulder. "Just an astute observation."

He was still on the couch, but now perched at the edge of the cushion. Big, dark brown eyes watched her intently, his elbows resting on his holey jeans, thick fingers woven together. The light from the fading sun outside cast shadows across his features, only highlighting that boy-next-door handsomeness that always seemed to birth butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

Her breath caught in the base of her throat as she watched his dimples appear with a charming smile. "What?"

"Nothing," he admonished with a quick shake of his head.

"That look doesn't look like _nothing."_

"Guess I'm just keen to be your… what do you call it… subject?"

Those butterflies rioted, nearly fluttering their way up her throat and ruining whatever casual, cool, and totally platonic moment they were supposed to be having. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd really be _keen_ on it if he knew what went on inside her head. If he knew how often he graced her conscious thoughts and depraved fantasies. If he knew how this weird little Tik Tok relationship seemed to only add petrol to the fire that was her infatuation with him.

All she could do was nod, watching his tongue darti across his lips as she prayed he didn't notice the warmth in her cheeks brought on by his unintentional charm.

"So, uh… give me like five. I think the mirror in my bedroom might be better for this."

She didn't wait for confirmation—not trusting herself not to shove her size 5.5 foot in her mouth.

* * *

"Hermione, I'm not so sure about this."

Well, it was a tad late for him to change his mind now, wasn't it? They'd filmed the first part, he'd seen her outfit and hadn't uttered a single concern about her attire at the time. In fact, he'd _complimented_ her!

" _Nice shirt."_

Innocuous, if not a tad flippant ,considering it had a faded image of Garfield printed on the front.

"I'm sure it's fine. Let me see."

How bad could a pair of joggers and shirt be? Sure, they were hardly the same size, that much was evident by the way his trousers barely hung on her hips, and how the hem of his shirt tickled her mid-thighs, but it couldn't be _that_ bad.

The door to her en suite cracked open, a stripe of artificial light leaving a line across her dark carpet. She looked up, still perched on the edge of her bed, her fingers toying with the bedspread.

"It's just rather…" His voice was marked by elaborate equivocations, and even before he'd set foot outside her bathroom, she could sense his discomfort. "Erm… well, let me just show you."

His feet were visible first, dingy white crew socks covering large feet. That was hardly unusual, but there was a wide stripe of skin between the top of his socks, and the leg of her joggers.

He moved slowly out of the bathroom with each methodical step, like if he moved too fast the clothing would split at the seams. The joggers weren't just too short for his long limbs, but they were tight—nearly a second skin. She could make out the cuff of his shorts against his muscular thighs, and a rather unavoidable bulge that she was both grateful for and modified she'd noticed.

But it wasn't the ill-fitting joggers that made it awkward.

No.

_God no._

It was her faded (albeit adorable) t-shirt. The same one that hung loosely off her body looked as if it were painted over his. The orange cat was stretched beyond recognition, the sleeves digging into his biceps and the hem clinging just above his belly button. It exposed his taut abs and the ropes of defined muscles that cornered into a low-cut v until they disappeared beneath her joggers.

If it were possible for a brain to short-circuit like an overclocked computer, Hermione's did just that. She could have sworn she heard the pop of every playful retort vanishing as she drank him in, second after second passing, making her mouth grow drier and drier until she wasn't sure that the cup of water on her nightstand was capable of quenching her sudden thirst.

He tugged at the hem of her shirt in a vain attempt to expose less of himself, and Hermione momentarily mourned the loss of his skin, her hindbrain clearly running the show at the moment.

"You look—" Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat as she forced herself to look up at his face and stop gawking at him.

This was Neville.

_N-E-V-I-L-L-E._

As in: her roommate.

As in: Harry's friend.

As in: _Off. Limits._

But that logic seemed so utterly faliable right now. Why couldn't she admire him? Clearly he was desirable, random strangers on Tik Tok thought so! And she'd known him forever! Back when he was a chubby little adolescent she'd found him charming and kind. Out of anyone who should be able to admire the fine human specimen he'd evolved into, _she_ had more right gawk.

"—great."

"I look like a toddler."

Hermione wrinkled her nose with a firm shake of her head. No, absolutely not.

"I'm not saying you should borrow my clothes more often, but… Honestly, it's not bad." She gulped, trying to collect herself before she said something really stupid. Tearing her eyes away from him, she looked down at her own baggy outfit, hands smoothing over the large shirt. "I'm sure my viewers will love it."

His heavy footsteps echoed across the room as he moved to stand in front of her full-length mirror, a deep grimace already etched over his features. "I don't really care what their opinion is, Hermione." He turned to the side, as if trying to determine which way he could best conceal his attire.

Hermione rose from the bed and moved to join him, her mobile already in hand. She reached out, hand hovering just above his that was still tugging relentlessly on the hem of her shirt, but she didn't let it descend. If his reaction to her hug was _any_ indication, she wasn't going to make the same mistake twice in one day.

"You shouldn't care what anyone thinks, truthfully."

She could feel his eyes on her in the mirror, her frame freezing as he leaned into her hand, closing the miniscule distance that separated them.

"I care what _you_ think…"

Her heart thumped so loudly that she was certain he could hear it. A war drum, loud and resounding, beckoned her to give into this clearly forbidden feeling.

Chick-Lit and Rom-Coms made it seem kismet, like snogging your roommate was socially acceptable and wouldn't ruin her near-perfect living situation.

But she was far from Julia Roberts or Bridget Jones, and frankly, real life had ramifications for these types of feelings.

She forced a smile, half-friendly, half-forced, because those butterflies currently fluttering around in her stomach made it impossible to put apathy into place and she gingerly patted his arm.

"Well then, you have nothing to worry about." She side-stepped away from him, fingertips trailing off his skin, the last physical manifestation of a forbidden longing and she turned to the mirror. "Let's get this over with before you stretch the seams on my shirt, yeah?"

For half a second, she could have sworn she saw a hint of disappointment dim his eyes, but it had to be a trick of the light because the next second he was laughing. "I hate to tell you this, but… uh"—he slowly lifted his right arm, exposing a giant hole that formed in the armpit of her shirt—"it's a bit too late for that."

Genuine laughter came forth, and her brows nearly hit her hairline, and that will they won't they line they'd toed faded into the backyard as she doubled over, clutching her middle. It was in these moments, when her laughter came easy and the tension slipped away, that it was easy to forget she shouldn't want him as more than a friend and just enjoy his company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, beta credit to the fabulous dreamsofdramione. follow her content, she is utterly brilliant. her latest fic: Experimental Attraction is a nevmione written for the same collection. **GO READ**.
> 
> She graciously made me the beautiful pretty you see above.
> 
> until next time. xx

**Author's Note:**

> happiest birthday wishes to the fabulous [granger danger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/granger_danger/pseuds/granger_danger)! 
> 
> this is my first attempt at writing a nevmione, so i hope it's to your standard. also, true to form, this oneshot turned into a small ficlet... because I clearly lack the ability to do small things. that being said, you'll be graced with one chapter a week for ??? and watch these two adorable idiots make tiktoks and find love.
> 
> beta credit to [dreamsofdramione](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bugggghead/pseuds/dreamsofdramione). she is amazing, ya'll, go peep her works.  
> all remaining errors are my own.
> 
> also; full disclosure. I don't tik tok so i am taking some liberties with the platform (BUT I did do some research).
> 
> until next time. xx


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